randomnesssssssssss temp 3ds thing blahdieblah
by chickenrol
Summary: ok
1. Chapter 1

**The Day Thereafter**

A warm tailwind had never felt so cold as it did when Scootaloo flew home from Cloudsdale. Clouds drifted above and below, without a care in the world. Hiccups and whimpers bubbled to the surface, loud despite the roar of the wind and Rainbow Dash's words ringing in her ears. She wiped away snot that trailed out of her nose.

A river shimmered in the noonday sun far below, silver like the ones she saw on her first flight. She shut her eyes to flush away the thought of anything related to Rainbow Dash.

Ponyville would soon appear in its place, her house sitting happily where it always had. Dad would be inside. He would make everything better. He always did.

She reopened her eyes to see Ponyville basking below as she had imagined. It looked warm. Houses and fields took their distinct features as she glided downward for the street.

It accepted her like a friend in from the cold, and she hurried for her front door. It opened at the touch of her hoof to reveal the living room, bright but warm with the earthy décor. Dad wasn't sitting in his usual spot, the beige pillow before the coffee table empty.

"Dad?" she said, her voice not but a whisper. She ran to the hallway, and called louder. "Dad?" Still no answer. Her heart began racing. He couldn't be gone, too. Not him. She dashed to his room. "Dad!" The bathroom. "Dad!" Back into the hallway. She trembled as she stared down it toward the empty living room, then her room. She nudged the door open.

The room sat silent. Hesitant steps brought her to bed, where she curled into a ball, and closed her eyes.

_Go home, Scoot. Go home..._

She flinched, and opened her eyes. In the light from the window, Racing medals glinted like little suns from where they hung on dresser and hooks about the room.

_You aren't good enough..._

She rolled onto her back. The sunlight cast little spiky shadows across the stucco ceiling, like reverse stars in a daytime sky. They blurred, and she pressed her hooves into clenched eyes until blots appeared.

_You never were._

Whimpers escaped her, and she grabbed her pillow to hold it tight and never let go.

The front door opened and shut. Dad was home. She wanted to see him, race out there and hug him, cry into his chest until everything was the way it should be. But she didn't move, nor make a sound.

His hoofsteps padded softly off the hallway carpet. He was heading for his room. Hopefully he would peek in and see her.

The padding stopped just outside her door. "Scoot?" Concern and confusion mixed in his voice. "Scoot, are you alright?" Her heart sped up when the padding turned to clomping along the hardwood of her room before returning to a padding on the area rug. The hairs on her nape stood on end as he breathed right beside her bed. "Scoot, talk to me. What's wrong?"

She flinched at the touch of his hoof. Slowly, she turned her head to meet his eyes. They matched the concern in his voice, and widened at the sight of her face. She looked down.

"Rainbow Dash..."

Scootaloo bit back tears that tried to escape with each tremor of her body. Tyco wrapped her in a hug. The embrace was warm like she had hoped. She snuggled into it, sniffling. He smelled of paper and ink like he always did after work.

"Shh..." Tyco cooed. "It's alright. I'm here." He rocked back and forth, a hoof stroking her mane. A moment passed before Scootaloo calmed down, and Tyco gently held her to hoof length. "What happened?"

Scootaloo looked away, ears drooped. "I... I'm not good enough."

"What?" Tyco hunched down to look up into her downcast eyes. "Not good enough for what?"

"F-For... For Rainbow Dash..." The sentence hung in the air like a body from a noose.

"Scoot." His voice was level, almost demanding. "What happened?"

The tremors resounded in Scootaloo's legs to make sitting up difficult. Like the balcony back in the Cloudiseum, sinking into the bed felt like a wonderful option. She shifted her mouth to form the beginnings of her admission to failure. It wretched its way out like the putrid thing it was.

"I... lost."

Fresh tears dribbled on her sheets, unable to be stopped by the clenching of eyes. She felt herself pulled back into the loving fur of her father's chest.

"It's okay." Tyco said. "And you are good enough. You're the best flier I know."

Scootaloo pushed herself away. Her voice choked. "No I'm not..." Silence reigned between them for eternity. Nothing could make her agree. Not after today. She was looking away from him—at the wall and occasionally the window—but could feel his eyes scrying the back of her neck.

"Scootaloo..." Nothing in his voice had changed, but the way he used her full name instead of her nickname in such a soft voice made her wince. "Is that what Rainbow Dash said?"

A lump formed in the back of her throat, and she swallowed with difficulty, slowly nodding. Sniffles punctuated the following silence. The desire to be wrapped up in his hooves again overtook her. And he did just that. Slow and steady, he stroked her mane back away from her face, which she pressed against him.

"Shhh... It's okay, Scoot. Everything's okay."

Hiccups and tears made her words difficult to say. "No it's not." They rocked back and forth without speaking for a moment. Scootaloo made no effort to resist.

"It is, Scoot. I know it's hard and I know how it feels," Tyco said. "I've been in the exact same situation."

Scootaloo looked up. "You... you have?"

"Mhmm. My parents. Well, more specifically my father, but yes. The day I got my cutie mark, I came home..." He looked askance, his face sagging as if weighed down. "I remember my father silhouetted in the doorway. I showed him my cutie mark... and all he said was, 'I was waiting for my son to come home, but I see he never will.' And he slammed the door in my face."

Scootaloo winced as if it had happened to her. "He didn't let you come back in?"

Tyco didn't immediately answer. His face was strained with the memory. Slowly, he shook his head. "No. Nopony did. It was... It was scary. I was alone."

It felt as if a weight were pressing down on Scootaloo's chest. How hard it must have been for him to live the greatest moment of his life... and then lose everything. She put a hoof to his chest and smiled up at him.

His eyes met hers, and he let out a weak laugh, and his lips turned up in an embarrassed smile. "And here I thought I was trying to comfort you," he said. He may not have known it, but his stories always did.

"Well," he continued, "what I was gonna say was there was this gryphon named Tigoragan that I ended up living with. He—"

Scootaloo's eyes lit up. "You lived with a gryphon?"

"Y-yeah, I—"

"That's so cool!"

Tyco smiled half heartedly. "Well, I don't really think 'cool' is the right word for him. He was by far the meanest creature I've ever met."

Scootaloo cocked her head. "Wait. If he was mean, then why did you live with him?"

Tyco turned his head aside, in thought. "There's a long story to it—I'll tell you all about it later. But what I've been trying to get at is, in that entire city full of ponies, none of them cared what about me. He was the only one there for me when nopony else was—didn't matter how mean he could be. He became the one I looked up to on how _not_ to be." He made a vague shrugging motion with his shoulders for emphasis. "And he even said that. What's important isn't who you look up to, but how you look up to them. What they do to and around you.

"Some ponies, like Rainbow Dash, might hurt you." He traced a hoof down her cheek. "But others, like me, will always be there for you." His hoof brought her eyes to his. Bright and true they were, like the shining gates of heaven. "No matter what."

Her heart gave a flutter, as if his words were too good to be true. Slowly, she opened her mouth to ask with the softest of voices, "Promise?"

He traced a hoof down her cheek, which she leaned into. "Promise."

Scootaloo threw her hooves around him. He never broke his promises.

"That's my girl." She felt his hoof rub up and down her back. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, dad."

Scootaloo didn't know how long she held him. She could have stayed there forever.

"You've been through a lot today," he said. "You wanna go down to Sugarcube Corner and get something nice?"

Scootaloo looked away. She shrugged weakly before nodding, and he ruffled her mane.

"Oh, come on," he said. "I bet it'll cheer you right up. Let me go grab some bits and we'll get goin'." After a quick kiss on her forehead, he left the room for his own.

She followed him with her eyes across the hallway and out of sight. Dressers shifted open and shut, and coins clattered atop what was presumably his nightstand. He left his room and poked his head in hers.

"Ready?" he asked, a smile on his face as if their conversation had never happened.

Scootaloo returned a smile, though it was far from genuine. He was trying hard to cheer her up. It was quite obvious, even to her. Having that opportunity was rare in and of itself, his job always so demanding of him. A day with dad to forget everything wrong. She nodded, smiling. "Mhmm."

They left home and trotted down the street. The heat of day had relented, and ponies ran about their business, some even smiling at them as they passed. It was reminiscent of the wonder she felt her first time walking alone through town. The feeling followed her to the far end of Ponyville, where the smell of sugar and baking sweets grew strong in the unmoving air. It made her flutter her wings.

A turn of the corner brought the bakery into view, its gingerbread architecture as tantalizing as the goodies within. It bustled with customers all entering and exiting and children running around on sugar highs and others crying at dropped cones, their parents consoling but unsuccessful.

They took their place in line just inside the door, much further back than she had anticipated; the line snaked around the store.

"I'm sure it won't be long," Tyco said, also looking around.

"Mhm..."

The line moved forward consistently, Pinkie Pie working at blinding speeds behind the counter to paint smiles on everypony's faces as they were helped. At this pace, Dad would be right, but it didn't help how she felt. Ice cream never won a Best Young Flier's competition. Neither did she. Weight collected in her stomach, dragging her shoulders down with it.

_You aren't good enough._

Scootaloo looked around at the other foals and their parents—both parents—and they all looked so happy together. Unfamiliar feelings churned in her stomach. One filly hugged her mother. Scootaloo huffed and looked the other way, but glanced back out the corner of her eye, her heart knotting. She had never truly known that sensation. Rainbow Dash had come close, but after the events of that morning...

What was it like?

"Hiya, Scoot! How ya doin'?" came the unmistakable voice of Pinkie Pie. She leaned atop the counter's rounded display case that housed dozens of colorful, tasty treats. A gasp escaped her. "Oooh, didn't you go to Cloudsdale today for the Best Young Flier's competition? Did you see Rainbow Dash?" She leaned across the counter, eyes glistening.

Scootaloo shrank away and forced a smile. "Uh, yeah..." It took all her effort to keep the smile from cracking.

"Oh, I bet it was super duper fun getting to see her again and all the other Wonderbolts and how fast they are." Pinkie Pie slid back to her side of the counter, hooves mimicking pegasus racers as she made loud wooshing sounds.

Tyco stepped forward, head aside with a smile that treaded the line between amusement and annoyance. "Pinkie, can we order something, please?"

She looked down from her hooves above her head as if awoken from a strange dream, and then smiled as gaily as ever. "Of course, silly. It's not like anypony was stopping you." Tyco frowned.

Scootaloo held back a sigh. Pinkie Pie could be Pinke Pie, but not here and now. And she definitely didn't need to say that name, either. Patience marked her father's face as he looked down, waiting for her to order. She complied, if only to make him feel like he was accomplishing his goal. Sugarcube Corner suddenly felt less fun than it already did.

"Can I get an ice cream cone in a cup, please?"

Pinkie Pie saluted as if it were an order from Celestia herself. "Yepperoonie! One ice cream cone in a cup coming right up." She snorted a laugh before zipping into the kitchen and returning lightning fast with a vanilla cone. She then procured a cup from the cabinet beside the display case and unceremoniously plopped the cone into it. "Here ya go! I know it's your favorite!" She smiled at Tyco. "Anything else?"

"No, that'll be it," Tyco said.

"Alrighty. Enjoy!"

He paid, and the two took a seat in the corner of the store. Scootlaoo stared at her ice cream as it sat on the table before her. It seemed to stare back, bored and unappetizing. She lost her desire to eat it; though, her father's smile compelled her to be polite. She smiled back anyways.

"You know, I remember the first time we were in here. Do you?" His voice was soft, tinted with mirth.

"Mhm." Of course she did. Pinkie Pie's welcome wagon wasn't exactly forgettable. Neither was the "Welcome to Ponyville" party. She shuddered. That many ponies should never be crowded into such a small room.

"Yeah, it was a really nice party, wasn't it?"

No, it really wasn't. She neither liked sardines nor being packed like one—especially while being told to dance and play games. "Mhm..." She took a bite of her ice cream.

"Hey, you say that like you didn't have fun." He cocked his head. "Did you?"

Scootaloo didn't answer for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell the truth. "Eh," and a shrug became her choice.

"Wha-haha, so you—" he looked over his shoulder before turning back to whisper. "So you didn't like that party?" He shook his head, chuckling. "And this whole time I thought you loved Pinkie Pie's parties..."

Scootaloo raised the ice cream from the cup and let it plop back in, eyes absently following. "It's not her parties, really, it was just kinda... that one."

"Huh." He tapped his hoof on the table, the faintest of smiles on his lips. "Well, just don't tell her that."

Again, Scootaloo let his words hang in the din of the bakery, then: "Mhm."

"Scoot..."

She looked up. His face was pained as if a knife slowly dug into his chest. It hurt to know it was because of her, but she couldn't help the way she felt. All she wanted was for everything to go back to normal. With the last reserves of her energy, she managed a smile. "I'm okay, dad. I... I—"

"Scoot!"

She tensed, withdrawing from the direction of the voice before realizing it was Applebloom's. She and Sweetie Belle stood in line at the far end of Sugarcube Corner, both smiling and waving. Applebloom wore a pair of empty saddlebags They cut out from line to run toward her.

"How'd the competition go?" Applebloom asked.

The eyes of many ponies around them looked her way. Breathing became a conscious effort beneath the stares that demanded an answer more loathsome than turpentine. She looked to her father, who shared a private grimace with her. It hurt to know how much he empathized.

"It went... alright..." Scootaloo couldn't look them in the eyes. Along with everyone else she knew, there was no doubt in their minds that she would have won.

"Alright?" Sweetie Belle asked.

"Yeah, what do you mean, 'alright'?" Applebloom added. "What happened? I thought you were supposed to spend all day in Cloudsdale with Rainbow Dash after you won."

There they were. The words she herself had touted in the weeks before, straight from her friend's mouth. They were happy words, but they turned her stomach like rotten cabbage.

She must have unknowingly given a repulsive gesture, for Applebloom and Sweetie Belle both blanked and said, "Oh..."

Scootaloo shrank away.

"Hey, i-it's alright, Scoot," Applebloom said. "It just means you get to spend the day with us!" She was giving a huge smile when Scootaloo dared a glance. "Come on," she continued, "Sweetie Belle and I are helpin' Applejack bake some muffins." She hefted her shoulders to indicate the saddlebags.

A chill ran up Scootaloo's spine. She looked nervously at her father, who smiled warmly. He nodded at her friends.

"Go on, have fun," he said. "I'll be at home if you need me, okay?"

Scootaloo hesitated. It felt as if he were pushing her away, in spite of everything that had happened. He gave another nod toward her friends.

She sighed. "Alright."

The three waited in line to buy flour for the muffins they were soon to bake. Pinkie Pie still working at top-notch speed, they left in good time for Sweet Apple Acres.

"So, what exactly happened, Scoot?" Applebloom asked as they turned down Stirrup Street toward the farm. Flour sprinkled out the top of her bulging saddlebags with every step.

Scootaloo walked with downcast eyes. The cloud within the arena danced in her vision along the pebbles and dirt beneath her hooves. Wind whipped about her, ripping her tornado to shreds. A ringing in her ears made it hard to envision everything that had happened. "I don't know."

"Well, it had to be something," Sweetie Belle said. Her voice was muffled with a bite of cupcake she had bought from Sugarcube Corner.

"Yeah..." It indeed had to be something, but what it was Scootaloo didn't know. All she remembered was how weak the tornado felt, and the resounding thought: was the air not thick enough? Everything had happened so fast. If only she could go back in time and watch—see what went wrong.

"It's alright, though. Right, Scoot?"

Scootaloo didn't have the courage to look Applebloom in the eye. "Mhm." She heard the faintest of huffs from her friend, but none of them spoke the rest of the way.

"Applebloom? Is that you?" Applejack called from the living room as the kitchen's screen door slapped shut behind the three.

"Yeah, sis, it's us!" Applebloom set her saddlebags on the central table and wiped away sweat from her brow.

Scootaloo took a seat and leaned against the cabinet under the sink. Out the corner of her eye she could see Sweetie Belle rummaging through the fridge and Applebloom grabbing measuring cups from a drawer. The way they moved and talked—the springs in their steps and lightness of voice—felt distant. They were in their own little world revolving around hers.

The floorboards creaked to announce Applejack's entrance. Scootaloo looked up to see her smile.

"Well, I didn't figure you'd be joinin' us, Scoot," she said. "Thought you were supposed to be in Cloudsdale with Rainbow Dash."

Scootaloo leaned further into the cabinet door, its wood cool and rough to the touch. It was as if everypony wanted to rub her face in her own words—like she deserved it or something.

"Well, we're glad you're here, Scoot. Can't bake Crusader muffins without _all_ the crusaders."

"Mhm..."

Hooves clomped toward her, stopping just short. Scootaloo felt a hoof raise her chin, bringing her eye to eye with Applejack. Her lips were turned up in a smile, eyes tensed in concern, voice soft as linen. "Whatever happened, you know you can talk to us about it. You're still Scootaloo to us—even if you didn't win." She gave her a gentle shake. "You wanna help Sweetie Belle get the ingredients from the fridge?"

Scootaloo looked down at her hooves, then sighed. "Okay."

The rest of her time at Sweet Apple Acres went by in a daze. Her movements were reactive and mechanical—mixing, pouring, stirring, baking. Saying farewell, walking home, opening the door. The sweet flavor of wheat and sugar faintly registered on her tongue when she shut the door behind herself—slightly burnt. It wasn't until her father said something that she came to.

"Huh?" she said.

He was sitting on his cushion in front of the coffee table, papers spread before him, smiling. "I said, did you have fun?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess." Slowly, she started for her room, her mind returning to the haze he had torn it from.

"Hey," he said as she entered the hallway. She turned to look at him. His face seemed both tensed and relaxed. "Come here." Nothing in his voice denoted demand, but the simplicity of it provoked an instinctive drive to comply. She stopped beside him, eyes never losing his. He hugged her.

"I love you, Scoot. Never forget that."

Scootaloo didn't return the gesture. She felt drained from everything that had happened, emotionally and physically. A half smile came to her as a last vestige of her reserved energy. "Thanks, dad." She pulled out of his grasp and, after showing him her smile, headed for bed.

Her room was dark and cool in the waning twilight. The medals about her room danced in a slight breeze coming in from the window and played a sad, lonely tune. She lay herself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, as she had earlier that day.

_You never were._

The final phrase of Rainbow Dash's condemnation struck a high chord. All those days. All those nights. All those times they had flown together. After all was said and done, they truly meant nothing to her.

Rainbow Dash had been so proud, unendingly so. But she no longer cared. What had been a simple mistake became a point of loathing—a crime—deserving of no less than severance.

Scootaloo rolled over and looked at the calendar on her nightstand. It held no remorse for the large, circled date it glared in her face. She closed her eyes to sleep, to push herself past the rut she was stuck in, but the minutes passed like hours with no succor.

Darkness had completely overtaken the sky when she reopened her eyes. Stars twinkled outside her window, and the wind had died down. As she lay belly-up in bed, the desire to stare out at them consumed her. They called to her like sirens. A moment passed before she was no longer content merely looking out her window.

She got out of bed and headed for the hallway. Her father's quiet snoring was audible through his bedroom door, and it was eerily quiet in the living room.

Opening the front door and closing it behind her without a sound, she sat on the stoop to look up at the stars. They were brilliant and bright, like the purest of diamonds sewn into the blackest of cloaks. Dad always liked stargazing. He had said it reminded him of Starshine.

And as Scootaloo sat alone in the nighttime stillness, she sighed, thinking the same.

[Author's note: Thanks to Belligerent Sock and Sessalisk for their reviews of this chapter.]


	2. Chapter 2

**Within and Without**

Waking early was not on Scootaloo's to-do list the following morning. The magnificence of dreamland and the warmth of her sheets were top priority, and would have stayed so if not for an odd sense of wakefulness.

The first thing she saw was her nightstand, dimly lit by a not-quite-risen sun. She rolled over to look out the window. A light fog hazed her sight of the house across the street.

Scootaloo rolled back over and shut her eyes to return to the rocketship she and the other Crusaders had built to explore the far reaches of space, but her mind refused drifting off into dreamland. She sat up and sighed.

It was cool for a mid-summer morning, her window having been open to let in the breeze. Cicadas hummed outside. Morning dew scented her room. With nothing better to do, she got out of bed.

The hallway was warmer than her room, and had a stuffier smell to it. Homely, for sure, but nothing enticing like the breakfasts she was used to on weekend mornings. Dad never woke this early.

Much the same was the living room, silent but warm—cozy like a lit fireplace on a cold winter's night. She looked around, mouth slanted aside, brow furrowed. Something felt out of place.

It wasn't the couch on the far right wall, or the chair and ottoman beside the bay window. Her father's spreadsheets were scattered across the coffee table like always. The kitchen was clean. The light filtering through the blinds held no answer. Scootaloo fidgeted at how uncomfortable she felt standing there not knowing why. Then she jumped at the realization.

She shouldn't be there; she should be flying.

Waking daily at the crack of dawn for the last few months had conditioned her in doing so. Today was no different than yesterday, according to her body. Still, she had no reason to be up at this ungodly hour of the morning.

She looked about the room one last time. With a shrug, she trotted out the door.

It was like stepping back in time. The cicadas apparently realized she had come outside and redoubled their efforts from their unseen hiding places in the grass and bushes. The trees swished with wind, telegraphing the breeze that soon ebbed across her face. It tugged at her. Up.

She followed.

It drew her over the thatched rooftops of Ponyville. The few pedestrians awake at this hour became like ants crawling through cracks of pavement.

Higher. Higher. The wind picked up speed, pushing her onward, pulling her forward. She gave chase.

Clouds drifted above, slow and steady. They were like massive, white beasts grazing in an endless field. She passed through them and their misty wetness.

Still higher. Still faster.

Scootaloo smiled as she felt the strain of flight in her muscles, gouts of fire spilling out from the furnace within her breast. She fed it the wind on which she flew.

Hours seemed to pass. Left. Right. North. South. Wherever the wind turned, she followed. It drew away sweat that formed on her brow.

Scootaloo grinned, pursuing its twists and turns and spirals and dives and climbs, ever nipping at its heels. The fires burned like rivers of lava through her veins.

She laughed. Full-bellied, eyes closed, wholeheartedly.

She opened her eyes. And she came to a stop.

A great mountain spired up from the distant earth like the finger of the god that had forged it. Its peak was a flat, rocky plateau.

Scootaloo landed. Despite the altitude, all was calm.

Jagged peaks reached above the far end of the plateau. Out in the distance, Ponyville sat like a mote of dust on the landscape.

_Always keep your cool._

She looked down at the dirt beneath her. Hooves smaller than hers had scraped across it, off the edge.

_Rhythm and efficiency._

Mountains squatted in the distant blue, beyond the unending sprawl of myriad greens that led to the mountain's slate grey far, far below.

_Have fun!_

The ledge swallowed her. Downward she fell, through the roaring and tearing wind. The world smeared at the corners of sight, color fading from it. Death rose with open maw to meet her. Yet she remained calm. Every muscle relaxed, as if asleep. She closed her eyes.

She was at peace.

Slowly, her wings opened, and her body narrowed. She pulled her head back to feel the wind cut against her chin. Her body followed, and her feathers were spread wide. The wind quieted.

Breaths, soft and full, counted the lifetimes she drifted through the clouds, enthralled by the crisp open air. Only after an eternity did she open her eyes.

The world lay bare its grasslands and meadows and forests and rivers to her. Its faraway mountains and distant clouds. Ponyville. Canterlot. Equestria.

A long-forgotten path sitting hidden among a forest came into sight. She landed upon it and turned toward the mountain. It stood alone, as did she. And she smiled.

[Author's Note: Thanks to Belligerent Sock for his review of this chapter.]


	3. Chapter 3

**Scootaloo**

Scootaloo opened her eyes to the twittering of birds outside her window. She tried blocking out the noise by rolling over and hiding her head beneath her pillow, but they were still audible. She groaned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes before yawning loudly. _Stupid birds, haven't they ever heard of sleeping in?_

It was earlier than she was used to waking, the sun not yet coloring the sky. Five more minutes would have been a godsend, but she knew the birds weren't going to relent anytime soon. With a stretch of her wings and another yawn, Scootaloo leapt to the floor with a muffled clomp on the rug. She turned to make her bed, but paused.

Why was she doing this again? The mattress looked more inviting than ever, and her body cried out for more sleep. She considered the offer, but shunned the invitation and made her bed without another thought.

Though there was no practical reason for it, rising with the sun to continue her morning flights seemed right. The thought of ending it was incomprehensible.

Scootaloo walked to her bedroom door and opened it, but a soft clang caught her attention. Poking her head around the inside of the door, she saw a gold medal hanging from the doorknob. Her first gold medal.

She gazed at it wistfully for a moment, but shook her head.

She didn't do this for Rainbow Dash. Not anymore.

The house was quiet as Scootaloo walked down the hall and into the living room. Before reaching the front door, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. She listened for the faint sounds of slumber and thought of her father's smile. She couldn't do this without him.

Scootaloo left her house and took flight into the morning stillness. She flew south for once, deciding it was time for a change in scenery. Her hopes of seeing something new and interesting slowly faded when she realized the landscape was pretty much the same here as everywhere else: rolling green fields and pastures as far as the eye could see. She resigned to keep a level gaze and slowly drift into mental oblivion, but was unable. Thoughts of the past week kept churning to the surface of her mind.

The wind carried away a sigh, along with the array of colors that haunted her.

The latter half of the day found itself hosting a little flight exhibition. The green of the meadow by the Everfree Forest was spotless, save the figures of Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. Circling far above, Scootaloo gazed down at their smiling faces, which eagerly looked up, anticipating an exciting display of aeronautics. She took a deep breath and launched herself toward the earth.

Sweetie Belle and Applebloom cheered as she looped and dove through the air, adding little twists and spins to her routine. Scootaloo flew low to the ground and banked wide, encircling them.

She wracked her brain for something spectacular, something to stun them and sharpen her abilities. One particularly roguish idea popped into her head.

Still circling her friends, she tilted her angle inward. Like a tether ball around a pole, she slowly inched nearer.

Their faces grew concerned, but she brushed the thought aside; this would undoubtedly surprise them. She maintained her inward spiral, but it quickly put a grueling strain on her wings. She beat them faster to compensate, but not enough.

Scootaloo couldn't keep up with the tempo and lost her rhythm. Her momentum launched her out of the circle and into a tumbling roll across the meadow, where she left pockets of torn earth in her wake. Friction did its job and brought her to a sliding halt.

"Scoot!" Applebloom and Sweetie Belle yelled as they hurried to catch up.

Sounds of spitting and gagging filled the air as Scootaloo expelled chunks of grass and dirt from her mouth, much to the amusement of the others.

"Wow, Scoot, that sure was somethin'," Applebloom giggled, "but what in the hay were you tryin' to do?"

"Eh, nothing, really," Scootaloo fibbed, passing off an air of nonchalance to smooth over her failed stunt.

"So why do you still do it, anyways?" Applebloom asked.

Scootaloo cocked her head and raised a brow. "Do what?"

"Why do you still fly after what Rainbow Dash did? You still haven't told us."

Scootaloo didn't answer, looking at her hooves instead. She hadn't really thought about it before. "I don't know. I just kinda do. It's, um... It's like knowing there's always something there for you, no matter what. I guess it's kinda like your cutie marks," she added with a shrug.

"Like our cutie marks?" Sweetie Belle echoed in confusion.

Scootaloo shifted her weight. "Well, yeah... You guys have your cutie marks. You know what you're good at and what you'll do for the rest of your lives. And I can fly." She shrugged.

"So you fly just because you can?" Sweetie Belle asked, still clueless.

Scootaloo didn't answer. There was more to it than that. Rainbow Dash had taught her to fly, something she hadn't asked—desired—of anypony else. She was the master—the one, true teacher. The one who had given her the keys to the sky. Was, anyway.

But the door she had unlocked could not be shut. It remained forever open, entrance into the world above, irreversible. Everything that had happened did for a reason. Defying it was impossible.

Scootaloo shrugged again. "I guess."

"But what about your cutie mark?" Applebloom cut in. "We still need to figure out what it is."

That was another worry she had little interest in anymore. "Ehh..."

Applebloom gawked as if her cutie mark had disappeared. "What do you mean, 'ehh'? We're the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We gotta find out what your special talent is."

Scootaloo began drawing circles in the dirt. "I don't know. It just doesn't feel all that important trying to find it anymore."

Sweetie Belle, too, sounded particularly surprised. "But don't you at least _want_ it?"

Sure she did. It would be nice to know she finally found it, but finding the reason for her desire to continue flying, in spite of all that had happened, was a more pressing matter. A cutie mark could wait. "Yeah. Who knows... maybe flying actually is my special talent."

"You think so?" Applebloom asked.

Scootaloo gazed up at the sky. They didn't know how strongly she was drawn to it, of the sovereignty it claimed over her. They couldn't. The pain and sacrifice she had endured to reach this moment was foreign to them, as was the passion it fostered. It was a whirlpool of emotion that drained away the bad until only the good remained.

In the most basic sense, it was freedom—freedom from her worries, from the troubles of the world, a release of any and all pent-up anxiety.

Scootaloo smiled at her friends, "Yeah, I do." She was glad they couldn't understand, and she hoped they never would.

The next morning arrived, boasting a beautiful red glow that filled the sky. Scootaloo went about her business, waking up early to continue her instinctive habit and prepare for another fun-filled day with the other Crusaders. Upon exiting her house and taking wing over Ponyville proper, she noticed a change in scenery.

Balloons, streamers, and decorations of all sorts swelled throughout Ponyville, Sugarcube Corner its epicenter. There was no doubt about it: Pinkie Pie was hard at work. Celestia knew what for, but if she was up this early preparing for a party, something big was happening.

A handful of ponies entered the bakery, but Scootaloo restrained her curiosity. She had to get her morning flight in before anything else. Her work ethic wouldn't allow otherwise. She headed north with nowhere particular in mind.

She returned from Equestrian countryside an hour later and was brought back to reality by Ponyville's transformation. A kaleidoscope of fluorescent colors had seemingly grown out of the woodwork and taken the town hostage. Pinkie Pie must have been really excited if she went this far with her decorations, but Scootaloo wasn't up for discovering why. She was worn out from her flight and not in the mood to put up with the crazy mare's shenanigans. Scootaloo arrived home and promptly headed for the bathtub to wash away the sweat of her morning endeavor.

Refreshed and rejuvenated, Scootaloo went outdoors into the heat of the summer sun. More ponies were heading toward Sugarcube Corner. This time, curiosity got the better of her.

She took to the air for Sweet Apple Acres, flying faster than usual, spurred on by the gnawing curiosity, to see if Applebloom wanted to investigate with her. As she neared the farm, though, she spotted Applebloom and Applejack walking toward Ponyville. She landed beside them.

"Hey Applebloom! Hey Applejack!" she said.

"Well, shoot, Scoot. You scared the livin' daylights outta me!" Applejack said. "What brings you all the way out here?"

"Oh, I was coming to ask Applebloom if she wanted to go to Sugarcube Corner," Scootaloo replied. "I saw lots of ponies going there, and I thought it'd be fun to get Sweetie Belle to go, too."

"Well you're in luck," Applejack said. "We were just on our way there. Pinkie Pie asked Granny Smith to make some of her famous apple pies," she added, glancing at her saddlebags.

"Ah got to help!" Applebloom said with a gleeful hop.

Applejack smiled at her sister. "That you did, Applebloom, and I'm sure Rainbow'll be plum grateful."

Scootaloo looked up at her in alarm, a tingle working down her shoulder blades. "What?"

Applejack looked back to Scootaloo with mild surprise, then grimaced as she scratched the back of her neck. "Oh, you didn't hear? Rainbow Dash is back."

Scootaloo flinched, and her hair stood on end. Rainbow Dash was here in Ponyville?

"Listen, we all know what... hey, Scoot, wait a minute!"

Applejack's words fell on deaf ears. Scootaloo was already airborne, surging back to town with all the speed she could muster. She had to see it for herself, see _her_ for herself.

The vibrant decorations around town blurred at the edges of her vision as she blew past them. Sugarcube Corner grew in her sights, but she was blind, unable to see past the rainbow in her mind's eye.

She burst into Sugarcube Corner and stood in the doorway. A hushed silence swept over the crowd within, and all eyes fell upon her. Rainbow Dash was standing in the middle of the room, a confident smile on her face. It disappeared as their eyes met, and a battle of wills raged in the stillness. The air was stifling. Nopony moved, hardly daring to breathe.

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes and quietly sighed. She solemnly walked toward Scootaloo, head bowed.

Scootaloo felt a spark of anger ignite inside her. How dare she come back. The urge to tackle her and show her the pain she had inflicted surged like a tidal wave within Scootaloo's breast. But at the same time, from the bottom of her heart, a secret longing that Rainbow Dash would scoop her up in her hooves and apologize kept it at bay. That Rainbow Dash could just tell her everything would be alright. And it would be.

Now once again in her presence, the old, happy memories of their relationship resurfaced. Counter to the resentment she felt, Scootaloo wanted nothing more than to be held close, to again melt within her embrace.

As Rainbow Dash neared, Scootaloo's heart gave a flutter of hope. Will she? Was this the moment she dreamed of? Would Rainbow Dash find the compassion to stay?

Scootaloo felt the brush of feathers against her side, and a shiver found its way through her body. She turned to see Rainbow Dash's tail gently swaying back and forth as it exited the building. The urge to yell hurtful nothings at her tormentor welled, but all that came forth was a soft-spoken utterance.

_"Why?"_

Rainbow Dash was unmoved by the question. She continued out the door and onto the porch. Her hooves echoed loudly off the concrete. Stepping down onto the road, her wings opened to lift her into the sky.

_"Answer me!"_

Scootaloo's cry resounded throughout the open street, and Rainbow Dash stalled her ascent. She briefly looked to the sky before bowing her head again, as if contemplating her next words.

"Because," Rainbow Dash replied, not even turning to look Scootaloo in the eyes, "I don't train noponies."

Scootaloo recoiled, and her heart felt as though it was sucked inside itself.

Rainbow Dash took flight. Scootaloo shut her eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. She shivered as she tried to retain her composure, but the intensity of the blow was too much. The spark flared and engulfed her.

_No. Not again._

Scootaloo shot into the sky in hot pursuit. Violet streak followed rainbowed blur over the rooftops of Ponyville. She grit her teeth to the point of cracking them.

Carried on the winds of rage, Scootaloo chased Rainbow Dash over the Ponyville river and far beyond the outskirts of town. The Everfree Forest grew on the horizon as she closed the distance between them.

Rainbow Dash glanced back. Her eyes burned with malice.

"If you want me, come and get me."

With that, Rainbow Dash faced ahead and pulled her hind legs forward. With a powerful surge of her wings, she launched forward at the speed of sound and lit up the sky in a blaze of color. The explosion sent Scootaloo tumbling head over hooves into the river.

Water invaded throat and nostrils as she thrashed about making sense of what had just happened. She noticed bubbles rising toward the surface and followed them, gasping for breath when she broke the surface. She heaved herself out of the river and looked up at the bold rainbow streak that curved over the edge of the Everfree Forest and away. It tapered into the distance, and her heart sank at the lost opportunity.

_Because, I don't train noponies._

Scootaloo hung her head. "You're right..."

She thought of Rainbow Dash's embrace, her gleaming eyes, and her choked up attempt to voice her pride. They dangled themselves in front of her before vanishing like leaves in the wind. The cold rejection of Rainbow Dash's words shattered her again like glass beneath a hammer, as if once was not enough. She felt alone.

_Alone._

The mountain where she had first learned to fly stood tall in the distant reaches of her mind's eye. It speared the heavens, solitary and titanic. She was alone when she had returned to it just last week. The wind coursing through her mane, the colors of the earth, the smell of the forest and rivers—they were hers and hers alone, forever.

A grin spread across her face, and she shook herself from head to tail, shedding the water that clung to her. "You're right. You don't train noponies."

No longer was Rainbow Dash the bygone memory, but now the speck in the distance, the faraway target. It was only a matter of time and place. And Scootaloo knew both: the Wonderbolt auditions.

Eleven months of hell awaited. It would take all of her being to achieve the impossible she set before herself. Sweat, pain, and tears loomed on the horizon, obscuring her view of the pony that fled beyond the faraway skies; though, they could not hide the rainbow tail—the array of colors she would inevitably see only by looking over her shoulder. They would be nothing more than stepping stones to the pony she was destined to be:

Scootaloo, the greatest flier in Equestria.

[Author's note: Special thanks to Cassius and Filler, for their reviews of the original version, and Belligerent Sock for that of the rewrite. I can't thank them enough for their help in making me a better writer.]

[Onward we march!]


	4. Chapter 4

**The Longest Road**

Scootaloo tore through the open air, racing over the treetops of the nearby forest and violently shaking branches in her wake. Her heart beat an intense rhythm. Her wings sliced through the air. Her lungs fueled the never-ending fire burning within.

It had been two days since Rainbow Dash's party, and her fateful condemnation. Scootaloo was on a mission, and she wasn't going to slow down anytime soon.

The sun played a reflection off the grass below. A glance discerned a deep score in the earth, the lingering evidence of a tornado's destruction forgotten in the passing of summer. With a mischievous smile, Scootaloo tilted her wings and shot into the sky. Hooves forward, she broke through a cloud, scattering its vapors. The dispersing puffs shrank below as she continued her ascent. The air around her thinned and cooled.

Letting gravity take its course, she relaxed her wings and gently pulled back into an inverted dive.

She powered downward, beating her wings furiously. The resistance in the atmosphere formed and bent around her. She rolled into a propeller-like spin, eyeing the ground with resolve as it spiraled closer.

Scootaloo spread her wings and landed upon the soft grass, leaving the trademark ring of her hooves. The wind lashed at her backside, but she barely felt it. Determination numbed the pain.

She looked up and grinned wide. Nothing short of vicious could describe the cyclone that whirled a path of destruction through the meadow. Without hesitation, she took flight, following her monstrous creation as it was carried off by the wind.

"Hah! Who's not good enough now?" she yelled. The tornado let loose with cannonball-sized chunks of dirt, which she dodged effortlessly. A particularly close-flying hunk held her eyes captive as it sailed overhead, but lost its power when she noticed Ponyville sitting directly ahead. Her smile faded. "Uh oh..."

She raced further head of the tornado and spun to face it. "Turn around!" she yelled. "Go _that way!_" she added, pointing behind the tornado at the Everfree Forest. It didn't listen. Ponyville steadily grew out the corner of her eye. She looked back at the cyclone with uncertainty before tensing in alarm.

A massive clod of earth struck her square in the face. She fell to the ground in a heap of grass and dirt. Rising to her hooves, she shook her head, spitting away the taste in her mouth. Her vision refocused, and she glared at the cyclone. "Oh no you don't!" She launched back into the air and charged straight into it.

The world went black. An ear-shattering noise deafened her to thought. The storm lashed dirt in her face, clawing at her eyes. She shielded them with her hooves, but something struck her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. A gasp for air choked her lungs with dust, and the tornado swept her up in its fury.

It spat her out across the meadow, where she crashed through the branches of the lone elm and fell to the grass. She staggered to her hooves, hacking up what felt like fire in her lungs. The tornado continued its course toward town as she looked on in fear.

_Get a hold of yourself! You made it! You can stop it!_ The tornado passed over a tree, uprooting it and flinging it aside to become nothing more than a speck in the distance. A shiver ran through her like ice water down her back._ But how?_ A moment's hesitation returned her courage. She sped after her creation.

Dirt rained from above, and the air thickened with a screen of dust, graying the sky. _Think think think!_ Scootaloo rapped her hoof against her forehead. The tornado grew as it sucked passing clouds down into its rotation to add them to its deadly spin. She gasped. _ That's it!_

With newfound determination, she shot above and ahead of the tornado before looking down. Her heart rate spiked, and her breathing became choppy. _Oh, Celestia, please make this work._ With a gulp and a deep breath, she plunged toward the earth.

The cone formed quickly in her desperation, and she spun like a drill as the tornado passed underneath.

Perfect.

The blackness of the tornado's gaping mouth swallowed her. A sudden pain stabbed at the insides of her ears, muffling the tornado's rage, and there was no air to breathe._ Not yet!_ The walls of the tornado closed in around her. _Almost!_ Her ears popped, and the roar of the tornado rushed upon her. A swirl of dirt whipped up from below, catching her in the face and stinging her eyes. She panicked.

Scootaloo spread her wings to land, but was snatched by an updraft in the bowels of the beast. It twisted and contorted her like a ragdoll before spitting her out into an ungraceful roll across the grass. The world spun sideways as her head tried to figure which way was up. Her legs were no more coordinated as she tried to stand, but she smiled nonetheless at the warped sight of her second tornado.

The cyclone was met with the counter-spin of the second and broke apart. From the top down, the fury of the storm dissipated, leaving the dirt it contained to gravity's design. Slowly waning away, the once mighty terror shrank to a miniature replica of its former self. The feeble swirl collided with Scootaloo's chest and broke upon her, like waves upon the bow of a ship, and was no more.

_It worked? _"Hah! It worked!" she shouted. With a back flip and another shout, she took off toward the forest. There was much to be done, and very little time in which to do it.

The next day brought with it wonderful flying weather. A cool, gentle breeze swept through the clouds above the meadow and across Scootaloo's face as she looked down from her perch in the sky. It carried the sweet aroma of dough and sugar from Ponyville. She breathed deeply of the saccharine fragrance before releasing it with a contented sigh. Moments like this made life worth living. Another glance at the dancing grass below brought her back to reality. With a grin, she leapt.

The friendly wind grew to a roaring thunder in her ears. It compressed about her, forming the familiar cone around her body. She clenched her teeth. _Come on!_ The earth grew rapidly. Too rapidly. An irritable grunt escaped her, and she pulled out of the dive. With its momentum, she soared upward for another attempt, but something caught her eye.

Two miniature figures stood by an elm that sat alone in the meadow, peering up at her and waving emphatically. She could hear their faint voices calling for her. Interested in what her friends were up to, she decided to investigate.

"Hey guys, what are you doing out here?" she asked before her hooves even touched the ground.

"We came to cheer you on!" Applebloom replied with a similar expression. "We thought if you were still workin' on your cutie mark, then we'd have to help somehow."

"Yea, what she said!" Sweetie Belle chimed in.

"Heh, thanks," Scootaloo replied, directing her gaze to her hooves, slightly embarrassed. She looked up to see them beaming at her expectantly and leaned back, puzzled. "Uh, what?"

"Well?" Applebloom asked.

"Well what?" she fired back, still thoroughly confused.

"What are you workin' on? You were flyin' awfully fast."

"Oh," she answered smugly, "I'm just working on doing a sonic rainboom."

"Cooool!" they both replied in unison.

Their enthusiasm brought a grin to her face, and she launched skyward for another bout with the sound barrier. Her friends' hoops and hollers faded below. She circled around, far above the clouds. With another dive, the cone appeared and shrank to fit her stature. Closer. Closer. She could sense it, just beyond her grasp.

Without warning, she came to an unexpected halt and hung motionless for an instant, caught by the resistant force of the cone. Much to her surprise, it shot her head over hooves into the air.

The world spun. Shock overpowering thought, Scootaloo flailed her legs about as she tumbled through the air, the blue and green of earth and sky smearing together. _Not good._ She flapped her wings frantically in hopes of regaining control. Fear rose in her stomach as the town continued to enlarge with every nauseating somersault. _Calm down! Focus!_

Scootaloo spread her wings wide and held them rigid. She concentrated on the air caught within them, feeling its chaotic pattern. Carefully, she began to twist and angle her wings, slowly neutralizing her tumble.

The earth and sky stopped their wild dance, and she righted herself into a glide just above the rooftops of Ponyville with enough speed to bank around town hall and back out to the meadow in a single, graceful motion.

Confidence welled within her after the mishap, and she rode the momentum into her succeeding attempts, each coming closer than the last.

Autumn followed on the heels of summer, seeing the trio off to their much undesired academic studies. The slow but steady drop in temperature was a welcome change for Scootaloo. She always liked autumn—the cool nights, the early sunsets, the changing colors of the trees, the annual Running of the Leaves—it was a good season.

She continued her morning exercises into the academic year, rising with the sun and setting out for the meadow to become one with the air. School bridged the gap between morning and afternoon training, where Applebloom and Sweetie Belle spent their evenings out in the meadow, eager to cheer her on.

Mid-September brought with it the blustery winds and the cool rains of the season. It was a damp month, wet from the constant rain storms the pegasi of Ponyville had scheduled. Though many complained of the dreary atmosphere, it was in the spirit of the season—a spirit that Scootaloo took in stride.

A light drizzle fell about the meadow one morning, stirred only by an inconsistent wind. Morale was high, and so, too, was Scootaloo before she descended toward the earth in her struggle against the confines of subsonic flight.

The ground swelled in her sights, blurred by speed and the ghostly white about her. She felt the cone sharpen like an arrowhead, giving her a sliver of hope. No such luck. Scootaloo pulled out of her dive, narrowly missing the ground, and returned to the skies for another attempt.

She threw herself at the forest below, but was met with the stern rejection of the sound barrier. It launched her back into the sky where she righted herself and assailed its boundaries a third time. Then a fourth. Then a fifth.

Above the rolling cumulus, Scootaloo readied herself for more but heard the school bell toll out the half hour. If she didn't hurry, she would be late for class. She took off for home to wash up and gather her things before heading to school.

"Good morning, class," came a cheerful voice.

"Good morning, Ms. Blackboard," the class chimed back with much less enthusiasm.

"Now, everypony open your history books to page twenty-four," Ms. Blackboard said. The collective sound of opening books filled the room. Scootaloo let out a sigh and planted her face firmly between the open pages.

_Ugh... bored already..._

She was tired of listening to teachers drill information into her skull. All she wanted to do was fly; sitting in a classroom and learning stuff she didn't care to know wasn't her game. She didn't care about how to multiply or divide, or where to find Trottingham on a map. Science didn't appeal to her, nor did reading. She despised writing most of all, with particular loathing for the paper that was due... She shot upright.

_Oh, crap..._

Due next period. She had already forgotten two assignments in Mr. Inkwell's class this week, and he wasn't lenient on late submissions. This wasn't going to go over well with her father at all.

A sinking feeling engulfed her. She couldn't afford another zero, let alone even a seventy percent if she were to get a decent grade. How was she going to write a paper about the greatest lesson she'd ever learned before class?

A sudden thought struck her, and she looked up at the clock above the chalkboard with a resolute glare. Three pages in forty minutes?

_Challenge accepted._

Scootaloo put pencil to paper with desperate fervor, channelling her thoughts into the loose leaf. She wrote about her relationship with Rainbow Dash—learning to fly, the audition, her fateful last words—disclosing everything up through that day. Her father's wisdom found its way into her paper—how he went through the same as she—as did her time spent with the other Crusaders.

She didn't know when it happened, but comfort in her words slowly replaced the fear of their deadline. It was as if writing out her experiences renewed her determination.

_Success!_

Scootaloo laid her pencil on her desk and glanced up at the clock just as the bell rang. She gave her chicken scratch a leery glance, disapproving of her hasty messiness, but dismissed her worries. Screw it, he got paid to read it this kind of stuff.

Scootaloo packed her things and headed for the door, grinning.

The following weeks were trying times for Scootaloo. She worked tirelessly to gain headway against the sound barrier, but saw no real progress since her first week. It left her feeling discouraged and inefficient.

Every night, she eyed her calendar, watching the days fly away as her deadline neared. The days grew shorter. The nights grew colder. And the weather grew crummier.

She had the will of a mountain, but even the mightiest of stones is eroded by time and an adverse climate. Day in and day out. Hundreds of dives. Thousands of backlashes. Zero sonic rainbooms.

A bell rang out through Ponyville, and the Crusaders exited the schoolyard to the usual sounds of cheering schoolmates. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle conversed excitedly, though Scootaloo refrained, distracted by her thoughts.

"What's wrong, Scoot?" Sweetie Belle asked, noticing her friend's dampened spirits. Scootaloo continued to stare off into space for a second before coming to.

"Huh?"

"I asked, what's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing... It's just, I've been working on this for months now, but I haven't gotten any closer to making a sonic rainboom."

"Sure ya have," Applebloom joined in, "You get closer and closer every time, not to mention how quickly you come back after it shoots you out like that." She shot a hoof into the air to a complementary "woosh!"

It was true. She had become quite adept at regaining control after every backlash of the mach cone. Sometimes, just to take her mind off the stress or to release any pent up frustration, she purposefully made it happen to remind herself that she was still in control. But right now, that thought did little to raise her head from its slouch.

The cold, hard fact that she had not yet broken the sound barrier within the last two months weighed heavily upon her shoulders, and her body language showed it.

"Let's just go," Scootaloo said submissively. She continued along the road, but stopped and turned upon noticing the absence of complying hoofsteps. Applebloom and Sweetie Belle gave her concerned looks after exchanging their own.

"Um, sorry, Scoot, but shouldn't we go do that homework Ms. Blackboard gave us first?" Sweetie Belle asked.

Scootaloo looked down at her saddlebags with lopsided ambivalence. It was a lot of homework, and was due tomorrow. She shook her head. There was no time.

"I can't. Not now," Scootaloo said, "I'll work on it tonight. I have to keep practicing."

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle shared another look before apologizing and heading for Carousel Boutique. The clouds rolling in from the forest threatened rain, and the two didn't want to leave the well-being of their homework to chance. A moment of silence passed, leaving Scootaloo to march onward alone.

Wait, why was she walking? Now without a grounded escort, she took wing and arrived within minutes, beginning her regimen without delay.

The evening wore on as Scootaloo rose and fell above the meadow. A sketch of her training would have put a seismograph to shame.

The sun quickly set, and the school bell chimed seven times far off in the distance. Scootaloo looked up in disbelief at the sun's absence. _Seven already? What the hay!_ She growled at the evening twilight before launching skyward.

The bell tolled away the hours as the moon arced across the sky. Scootaloo sat up from her most recent attempt and chiseled away the plaster of sweat and dirt that covered her. Closing her eyes, she fell onto her back to rest her wings.

A minute passed in silence. It occurred then that she had forgotten to check-in with dad again. He would have a hay-day about that for sure. She blew a raspberry in resignation to the coming scolding, and opened her eyes. A million stars twinkled in the darkened heavens. Their light blanketed the meadow in a ghostly candescence. She looked down at the mud caking her underside and picked at it subconsciously, revealing the subdued orange of her coat. With a sigh, she returned her gaze to the sky.

_Why does this have to be so hard? How did Rainbow Dash make this look so easy?_ The stars returned her questions with silence. She turned her head and saw the numerous lights of Ponyville flickering in the distance. Sighing again, she gathered her saddlebags and took flight toward the warm, inviting glow.

Scootaloo opened the front door of her home and stumbled to her room, carelessly dumping her saddlebags on the floor. Languidly, she crawled into bed, but started.

With a weary face, she looked at the bags. Dread nipped at her heart, but she shrugged it off. She snuggled beneath the blankets and slipped into nothingness, leaving the contents of the cotton satchels untouched.

Scootaloo shuffled into class late. She crossed the classroom, eyes downcast in annoyance.

"Good morning, Scootaloo," Ms. Blackboard said as she passed out graded papers to the class. Scootaloo didn't return the mare's greeting, nor her friends' as she threw her belongings beneath her seat and plopped down. She was tired of it; she didn't want to be here. It was almost December. She didn't have time to sit still. The chill of late fall called out to her from the window. Every minute she wasted in here was another not allocated to flight, to not surpassing Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo laid her head on her desk and sighed.

"Hey, Scoot, what's wrong?" Applebloom asked.

Scootaloo turned to look at her. She could see the concern her friend's face. "Nothin'," she replied with a weak smile, "just tired is all." She laid her head on the desk again and stared absent-mindedly into the back of the colt's head in front of her.

A piece of paper landed on her desk. It took a moment to register, but when Scootaloo noticed it, she looked up. Ms. Blackboard stood beside her, frowning. With a shake of her head and a sigh, the mare continued down the row of desks.

Scootaloo looked back at the graded worksheet. Twenty-six. She gave a shrug of indifference and rested her head on the desk again, unceremoniously sweeping the paper to the floor.

Class resumed when Ms. Blackboard returned to her desk to begin her lecture, but Scootaloo tuned her out. _Why do I have to be here? This is stupid._ She looked out the window at the dark grey overcast. The trees shook in the wind. _Great..._ She folded her hooves on her desk and buried her face in them.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Applebloom asked. "You've been acting like this for weeks."

"Mmm," Scootaloo groaned, not bothering to lift her head. A hoof poked her in the side, and she groaned again, waving a hoof in the general direction of the culprit. Applebloom huffed, but left her friend alone for the remainder of class.

Rain poured that evening. The sky hung low in a dark, thick mass, as if weighed down by the cold river it futilely tried to retain.

Scootaloo plowed through the blackened clouds, rushing headlong at the marsh below. Her eyesight was blurred by both her speed and the thousands of raindrops she outpaced in her descent. The cold November gusts whipped about, adding to the sharp liquid needles that assaulted her.

No dice.

She veered upward for another attempt, beating her wings hard to maintain the momentum that the driving rain stole from her. Dive after dive. Pullout after backlash. Which one was she on? Scootaloo lost count.

She positioned herself for yet another dive. Through the clouds she fell. The cone formed around her, deflecting some of the rain that would have torn at her face like the claws of mischievous demons. She felt the cone narrow slightly, but was too dazed from innumerable repetitions to see how close she was to the earth.

She plunged headlong into a deep quagmire that had formed in submission to the unrelenting downpour. Disoriented and unable to breathe, she squirmed about like an earthworm to try breaking free of the sucking mud. Her head swam, and her lungs burned.

With one last heave, she managed to pry her head free, and her gasp resounded throughout the immediate area. She coughed and sputtered as she pried her forehooves from the muddy vacuum.

Scootaloo fell to her haunches and looked to the distant, glistening lights of Ponyville. Wings limp, she sat motionless for a while, staring off into space, deaf to the heavy percussion about her. Time passed in mental stillness. It didn't matter. She looked up, straight into the nothingness above. Eyes unblinking, she remained so for untold minutes. Then, she looked down at the thick mud beneath her and sighed.

[Special thanks to Filler, Cassius, Cold in Gardez, Drakmire and Secondaryspine for their input and reviews of the original write, and Belligerent Sock for his of the rewrite.]


	5. Chapter 5

**A Push in the Right Direction**

Left. Right. Left again. Scootaloo rolled her pencil back and forth between her hooves for the millionth time. It made a loud, skittering sound across the wooden desktop, only muffled as it passed over her notebook paper.

Ms. Blackboard said something at the front of the classroom, and the filly sitting beside Scootaloo answered. Scootaloo glanced absentmindedly at her teacher. Ms. Blackboard was really getting into whatever she had drawn on the board. Was that supposed to be Equestria? Scootaloo let out a sputter. Who cares?

Her eyes wandered to the clock on wall. Five 'til three. She sighed.

Another pencil roll, and her attention shifted to the sheet of paper on her desk. Blank. Bland. Uninteresting. Just like the rest of the day would be.

She rolled the pencil again. A simple time wasting activity that she was pretty good at. At least that was _one_ thing she was good at.

The thought brought a scowl to her face. She stamped her hoof down on the rolling pencil, sending a loud crack through the classroom. She ignored the many curious looks she received.

Scootaloo laid her head on her desk. Another day wasted. Another afternoon awaiting the same fate. She sighed and looked down her nose at the pencil.

It laid still on the paper, point-forward. Its sides were marred with scuffs, scars, and bite marks, and she followed them up the pencil with her eyes. They weaved an intricate pattern that wrapped around the pencil and eventually ended at its point, which was blunt, dull beyond effectiveness. She looked at her right hoof and sighed again. Just like her.

Her hoof, wind-shorn and raw from months of failure, laid on her desk, limp. Cracks spidered along her whitened hooftip, and wind-sores lined the base of her fetlock. It hurt to walk on. It hurt to use. Hell, it hurt to even look at.

All this to make a sonic rainboom.

She remembered the Wonderbolts tryouts, looking up in excitement as Rainbow Dash lit up the sky. That amazing ring that bloomed like a flower in the summer sun. A faint smile upturned the corners of Scootaloo's mouth. She had to make one.

_If you want me, come and get me._

Scootaloo cringed. She refocused her eyes on her hoof, but looked away in disdain. A sonic rainboom. Like that'll ever happen.

She flicked her pencil again. Maybe she would have to settle for a pencil-rolling cutie mark.

The school bell rang.

"Alright, children, don't forget to study for your geography quiz tomorrow," Ms. Blackboard chimed.

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. _Geography shmeography_. She had more important things to worry about. _Screw school._ She donned a tattered blue and yellow scarf, a token of her father's bygone days as a Wonderbolt. Favoring her injured hoof, she stepped out into the mid-December air alongside Applebloom and Sweetie Belle. The frozen ground crunched beneath their hooves as they made their way through the snow-swept streets of Ponyville.

"Brrr! It's c-c-c-cold!" Sweetie Belle said.

"_Yer_ cold?" Applebloom asked in disbelief. "How in the hay are ya cold? Yer more bundled up than a polar bear in a sweater factory."

"Hey! No I'm not!"

"Are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!"

"Well, at least I'm wearing _something!"_ Sweetie Belle said, pointing at Applebloom's hand-me-down jacket. Scootaloo shut out the rest of their bickering.

In time, they arrived at the elm in the meadow, which had become their unofficial gathering place. Scootaloo looked up at the tree, whose leafless branches bent low under the weight of winter.

"Hey, Scoot, ya gonna get started?" Applebloom asked.

Scootaloo stared upward, glassy-eyed, and sighed. _Let's get this over with... Again... _

She removed her scarf before dragging herself above the clouds. Though the sun sat warm overhead in the crisp blue sky, it did nothing to lighten her mood. It may as well have been as grey as the clouds below. She fell through the thick layer of clouds, toward the frosted landscape.

One. Two. Three. Four. Each dive resulted in the same backlash, each attempt more pathetic than the last.

She caught herself among the clouds after the tenth rejection. _Come on! Why can't you do this?_ Another dive. Another denial. She glared at the grey fluff that rolled silently below, concealing the force that denied her her prize. _Rainbow Dash did this. I can—no, I _have_ to._

A grunt of frustration preceded her next dive. The cone sharpened, and her heart gave a flutter. She strained as hard as she could. _This is it!_ The earth reached up, as if to catch her, but stopped. It retracted and shrank into the distance, taking her hopes with it.

The sound barrier launched her back into the sky, where she righted herself to charge the earth again in a blind rage. _What the hell is wrong with you!? _The wind howled in her ears, but was a mere whisper compared to the torrent within her head. _Why haven't you done this yet? You're worthless. _Tears blurred her vision. _ And you want to beat her... pathetic... absolutely pathetic. _She beat her wings furiously, but the ground neither halted its ascent, nor did the cone narrow about her. She tried to pull out of the dive, but landed at an angle, rolling violently across the meadow.

Scootaloo staggered to her haunches, and her wings fell limp at her sides. She trembled with rage, eyes clenched shut. Tears stole the warmth from her face as they trickled down the tip of her nose. _Why can't I do this?_

_"Why can't I do this!?"_

She beat the earth into submission with each word. A twinge of pain stung her right forehoof. Red graced its blurry orange and mingled with the snow. Humiliating.

"Scoot?" Applebloom asked softly. "You alright?" She approached to put a hoof on her shoulder, but Scootaloo shied away.

"I can't do it..."

Applebloom stepped back in shock. "Wha—of course you can! You've been workin' on this for months! You can't just give up now!"

Scootaloo remained silent. She sniffled before standing up to gather her scarf. "I just... can't. I'm a failure."

"Come on, Scoot! Don't talk like that!" Applebloom said as she stepped in front of her. "Just like my sis always said to me when I learned how to buck apples. Defeat ain't failure 'til you stop tryin'." Applebloom looked her dead in the eyes. "You're. Not. A failure," she commanded with sharp jabs of a hoof.

Scootaloo shouldered past her. "Just leave me alone."

Applebloom's mouth hung agape. "Wha-Scoot, come back here!" She trotted to catch up. "C'mon, Scoot, can't you just try a few more times?"

"No."

Applebloom sighed. "Scoot, just one mo—"

_"Just leave me alone!"_ Scootaloo rounded on her, eyes ablaze. Applebloom recoiled. "It's been four months, Applebloom!_ Four! Months! _And nothing's happened! I've been out here every single day! Have you seen any sonic rainbooms?_ No! _I'm tired of it!" She turned back toward Ponyville. "I'm done."

Applebloom stared in disbelief. "So... so that's it... just like that, you're givin' up?"

"Shut up," Scootaloo said, not bothering to look back.

"Scoot, can't you jus—"

"No."

Applebloom huffed. "You get back up there and try again!"

Scootaloo glared over her shoulder. "Make me!"

"Fine!" Applebloom lunged, tackling Scootaloo to the dirt.

"Get off me!" Scootaloo yelled. She kicked Applebloom hard in the chest. The blow sent her tumbling over backwards, but she was on her hooves and diving atop Scootaloo before she could fly away.

Sweetie Belle looked pleadingly between the two. "Guys, stop it! This isn't helping!" Neither of them listened. They tumbled through the snow, hooves flailing and teeth gnashing.

"I said _get off me!"_ Scootaloo threw a wild backhoof that caught Applebloom square in the face. She cried out in pain, but retaliated with a kick to the stomach that launched Scootaloo into the side of the tree. Scootaloo crumpled into a ball, wheezing for the few precious bits of air that would fill her lungs.

Applebloom pinned her down and whipped her scarf off of her. She spit it to the ground and stamped a hoof on it. "You ain't goin' nowhere 'til you get back up there an' try again."

Scootaloo gazed up at her friend. Her mane was a mess, her bow was torn, and a bruise was forming beneath her eyes. Scootaloo glanced away in shame.

Applebloom stepped back, allowing her to stand. Scootaloo staggered to all fours and looked her in the eyes. Applebloom glared at her not with anger or vengeance, but with hard expectation—harsh but empowering. Scootaloo let it fill her.

Composure returning, she took to the skies and circled about. The wind stung like icicles on her cuts and bruises. It drew away the pain and anger that had boiled over moments ago, evaporated to leave her with the thoughts that mattered. She was gliding down from the mountain again. The wind tugged her skyward.

_Alright, here we go._ The clouds melted away as she rose through them. Damp with cloud vapor, her coat frosted over in the freezing wind. She brushed away the ice crystals on her face and gazed at the clouds below. They dared her to try again. They dared the wrong pony.

This time, Scootaloo dove, but instead of concentrating on the sonic rainboom, she filled her mind with Applebloom's soul-piercing stare. Every crevice resonated with its power.

The cone formed and stretched about her. Tears formed in submission to the wind tearing at her eyes. Color flecked the edges of the cone as it tapered to a needlepoint. Traces of static coiled around her. _Just a little more! Come on, wings!_

The ground grew dangerously close, but she pressed on. The cone's tip began unravelling. _This is it!_ Her lungs burned like a stoked furnace, and her wings screamed for an end to their torture, but she continued unfazed. _Almost there!_ The tip became a single thread, and pulled taut against her hoof. She eyed it with lust as it quivered in vain resistance.

Time stopped, and her heart beat victory.

Scootaloo grinned triumph, watching it thin out, hairlike, but the ground suddenly came into focus. She let out a gasp and pulled out of the dive, feeling the blood rush to her legs. Branches lashed at her as she crashed through the elm and across the meadow.

Worried cries echoed off the trees, scrapes bled, and her body ached, but none of it mattered. She was already in the sky once again, mind whirling a mile a minute around a single thought.

_It frayed._

The sky was still a dull grey, unmarred by the myriad colors of a rainboom, but it no longer clutched at her heart like the looming shadow it once was. Scootaloo looked down at her friend with a smile, and was returned with one of pride. _Thanks, Applebloom._

[Author's Note: Thanks to Cassius for his review of the original write, and that of Belligerent Sock for that of the rewrite.]

[Onward and Upward!]


	6. Chapter 6

**Red. Blue. Yellow**

Two weeks later, the trio burst out the front doors of school.

Scarf flapping in the breeze, Scootaloo bounded alongside her friends. The dusting of snow that had fallen throughout the day snaked about their hooves.

Scootaloo took a deep breath of air. Today was a perfect day for flying: the wind was crisp, but not chilly, full-bodied and refreshing.

"You ready to go fly some more, Scoot?" Applebloom asked.

"Of course! Right after I drop my stuff off at my house."

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle stopped and exchanged worried looks.

"Uh, Scoot, you sure ya wanna go home?" Applebloom asked in a pleading tone. "Ah mean, don't ya wanna go out to the meadow and fly around?"

Scootaloo turned toward her, quizzical. "Um, yea... duh! But it's on the way there, and I'm kinda hungry. I'll just go drop my stuff off at home and grab a snack."

"Wait!" Applebloom yelled. "Uh... what if Ah went and got you yer snack?" Both she and Sweetie Belle gave her awkward smiles.

_What's with these two? They've been acting weird all day. _ She shook her head, discarding her curiosity. "Nah, don't worry, I'll be real quick. See you there!" She took off for home before either could protest.

Scootaloo raced home, excited for the coming evening. She landed on the doorstep and opened the door, but instead of running straight to her room, she stopped in the living room. "Dad?"

Tyco, who was hunched over the coffee table, jumped upon hearing her voice. He spun around to greet her, a nervous smile on his lips. "Oh, hey, Scoot, what are you doing home so early?"

"What are _you_? You don't get home 'til eight on Fridays."

His expression changed to dismay before he shot her a wide smile. A little too wide.

_What the hay is up with everypony today?_

Scootaloo curiously stared at her father as she walked to her room, watching him casually lean left, as if trying to block something from view. Was he hiding something?

When she reached her room, she heard the sound of hurried movement out in the living room. This day was getting weirder by the minute.

After dumping the contents of her saddlebags at the foot of her bed, she returned to the living room and entered the kitchen, followed closely by her father.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, smiling.

Tyco laughed. "Then let's get you something to eat."

He grabbed a bag of cornbread from the cabinet and set it on the table. Scootaloo hopped onto a stool before tearing into it like a starving animal.

"Whoa, save your energy," he said, laughing. She managed to finish opening the bag with minimal tearing and, using her teeth, ripped off a large chunk, getting crumbs everywhere. "Hey, what have I told you about that?"

Scootaloo frowned at her father before using her hooves to tear off a larger chunk around where she had bitten. He rolled his eyes.

"At least eat over this." He set a plate on the table. "I just swept the floor this morning."

While she happily munched on her cornbread, Tyco filled her saddlebags with an assortment of snacks, packing extra for the others in case they wanted some as well.

"Alright, go have fun. And make sure you don't eat too much. You don't wanna cramp up." He hurried her out the door.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said as she was about to take off. "I want you home by sunset tonight, okay? No more of this late-night stuff."

"What? But daaad! I always stay out late to practice!" An indifferent, unwavering stare met her pout. She sighed. "Fine..."

With a playful nudge, Tyco whisked her off toward the meadow.

Once in the air, she glanced over her shoulder at her father, who darted back into the house. He hadn't told her why he was off work. Oh well. She had more important things to worry about. With a quick burst of energy, she sped off toward the meadow.

The cool afternoon breeze swept across the frozen grass, kicking up wisps of snow. Scootaloo landed beneath the elm and dropped her saddlebags against the base of the tree.

"Hey, guys," she said as she removed her scarf.

"Hey, Scoot," Applebloom answered, nosing through her saddlebags.

"My dad packed extras, so you can help—" _Crunch!_ Scootaloo looked over her shoulder.

Crumbs fell from Applebloom's cheeks. "What?"

Scootaloo giggled. "Yourself." Spreading her wings, she took off into the sky.

She reared back and looked down at her friends, mere specks upon the earth. A deep breath filled her lungs with Winter's tranquil chill. The air was even more perfect than she first thought. Exhaling a puff of steam, she dove.

The ground rose and fell. One time. Ten times. One hundred times. Sweat frosted her coat and shimmered in the afternoon sun. Scootaloo scowled at the earth where the cone awaited, invisible and insidious.

She had yet to see that single thread again, but she knew it was there, waiting for her. Scootaloo grinned. It was only a matter of time.

The evening sun had painted the sky a vibrant orange by the time Scootaloo landed beside her friends for a quick break. She trotted over to her saddlebags and rifled through them for something to drink.

"The sun's about to go down," Applebloom said, squinting into the distance. "Think we should head back?"

Scootaloo looked up, a juice box between her hooves. "Head back? But it's only like five."

"Yeah, but we gotta do that group project for Ms. Blackboard by Friday, and Applejack'll kill me if we don't start workin' on it soon."

Scootaloo thought it over as she fumbled with the straw. "Nah," she replied after punching a hole in the top of the juice box. "I've almost got this."

She smiled at her friends. "You guys can go back if you want, but I'm staying." She looked up at the sky, "I'm _this close_... I can feel it."

The other two exchanged glances. Applebloom looked at her. "Well... if yer sure, Scoot. Just don't stay out too late."

Scootaloo shot her a curious glance. "Don't stay out too late? Okay, seriously, what's going on? You've been acting weird all day."

"Uh... nothin'," Applebloom said. "Ah just think we need to keep up with our school work is all. Right, Sweetie Belle?"

Sweetie Belle, who had been wearing a nervous smile the entire conversation, jumped as Applebloom elbowed her in the side. "Oh, um, yeah... what she said!"

Scootaloo looked between the two. "Uh, okay. Just let me try a few more times. Go get everything ready. I'll meet you back at my house."

A look of relief washed over Applebloom. "Alright, don't keep us waitin'."

Applebloom and Sweetie Belle headed back to Ponyville. Scootaloo listened closely as their voices faded into the distance. A surprise? A surprise what? Whatever. She could find out later.

Scootaloo finished her juice box and tossed it back into her saddlebags before taking flight.

Many times she hurled herself earthward as the sun retreated beyond the horizon. A quick glance about after another unsuccessful dive brought a look of surprise to her face. Where'd the sun go?

She looked at the meadow that lay in moonlit shadows below and then to Ponyville and its innumerable tiny lights. She bit her lip.

_I want you home by sunset tonight, okay?_

That promise was already long broken. Hopefully he wouldn't be too mad. The star-filled sky above calmed her unsettled mind. Just a few more.

Scootaloo dove without another thought. The cone formed and narrowed at her hooftip before throwing her back into the air. A glare and another try earned the same result.

Just above the clouds, she stopped to look back to Ponyville again with a pang of guilt. Who was she kidding? He would be mad, not to mention her friends.

Scootaloo dove toward the elm to grab her saddlebags and head home, but stopped. This weather was too perfect to waste. It was worth the trouble she would be in.

_Just one more..._

She flew back into the sky, much further than before. The air thinned, and the wind whistled in her ears. Far above, the full moon and its twinkling sisters sat watching.

Scootaloo looked up at it and smiled. _I can do this._ She spun about before somersaulting into a dive.

The thin atmosphere gave little resistance, and the cone formed almost instantly, honing to a needlepoint as she powered downward. The denser air below the clouds hit her like a wall and sapped the strength from her wings.

From her cracked and broken hoof, blood trickled its way up her foreleg to send droplets into the air. The warmth speckled her face. It tasted like copper.

Her body became sheathed in the flames of exhaustion, every motion churning the lava that channeled through her veins. Her breaths went in as knives and came out as whimpers pleading her to end the madness, but the cone started tearing at the seams. Scootaloo grinned.

_You're mine._

The cone fluoresced. It shone like a falling star as waves of color snaked around her—brilliant, fierce.

She watched its tip unwind until only a single thread remained at the very tip of her hoof. It cleaved a small groove and drew a steady stream of blood. An inferno shot down her forehoof, daring her to cry, but she swallowed the pain; weakness had no place here.

Like an arrow drawn in a bowstring, she forced the thread to its limits, shrugging off the darkness that clouded her mind. The ground came into focus, deathly close. She had to pull up.

_No._ She clenched her teeth. Do or die.

She refocused on the thread, and all else faded away. It danced about in the groove of her hoof, taunting her, mocking her with its tremulous teasing. Slowly, it took on the colors of the cone as vivid hues began to run its length. Red. Blue. Yellow.

They redoubled their intensity as the thread frayed, burning brighter than the sun. Scootaloo shut her eyes to the glare, but it pierced her vision regardless.

_Go home, Scoot._

A vibrant rose pulsed through her eyelids. She gasped, and time came to a standstill. Through pain-filled tears, Scootaloo stared in awe. And for a moment, _she_ stared back.

Scootaloo's breath trembled, and her heart stopped beating. A towering shadow. A rock-hewn frown. A cold and hollow voice.

_Go home._

Shut up. Scootaloo grit her teeth, glaring death. _Just shut up!_ _I'll never give up. Never. _The acetylenic light bored into her eyes, but she held her gaze, adamant and unyielding.

_Fuck you._

A final surge of her wings left all resistance behind. The thread snapped.

All was silent. And the world went grey.

[Thanks to Cassius, Drakmire, Secondaryspine, and Cold in Gardez for their reviews of the original write, and Belligerent Sock for that of the rewrite.]

[Onward and upward!]


End file.
